The Blame Game
by Red Witch
Summary: Things are not going well at the Figgis Agency. What to do about it? Assign blame.


**Someone has taken the disclaimer saying that I don't own any Archer characters. You know who you are. Admit it. This little piece of insanity takes place right after The LA Business Expo Incident.**

 **The Blame Game **

"So, what's the damage?" Lana asked as she sat in the conference room with Cyril, Ray, Pam, Cheryl and Krieger.

"The good news is," Cyril was looking at some newspapers. "The Figgis Agency is barely even mentioned about yesterday's slight kerfuffle."

" _Slight kerfuffle_?" Lana barked. "Pam and Ray let Cheryl drive a **car** around the convention center. Which damaged several booths and caught **on fire!** Which set off the sprinkler systems and ruined all the other booths!"

Ray looked at her. "And you sicced a robot dog on **two people**. You really want to play the blame game here?"

"Yeah Lana!" Cyril agreed.

Lana glared at Cyril. "Said the man who not only embezzled money from Mallory to get us into the whole mess, he caused some poor sap to have a nervous breakdown."

"How **exactly** did Cyril do that again?" Pam asked. "Did you talk about your love life or what?"

"Turns out there are some people out there even more pathetic than I am," Cyril admitted.

"How is that **possible?"** Cheryl blinked. "And what's this about me driving a car? I don't know how to drive."

"No kidding," Pam groaned.

"You were hitting the champagne and groovy bears pretty hard yesterday," Ray said.

Cheryl shrugged. "I do tend to black out when I take enough drugs."

"Which explains why you don't remember your country music phase," Cyril groaned. "Anyway…I've been looking over the papers."

"Checking the want ads?" Pam asked. "Because honestly we may need them."

"No," Cyril said. "The papers say that the car malfunctioned…Accident…Yada, yada, yada…Also how it was brave of the owner to admit the company's own flaws."

"Good for him," Cheryl said.

"It's **your company** you idiot!" Lana snapped.

"You ratted on how much a hunk of junk that car was to the press," Ray added. "And when the company's owner calls their own car a **death trap** …Well it's not good."

"Oh…" Cheryl blinked. "That explains all these calls I've been getting from my company all morning."

"Your little driving rampage already made Me Tube," Krieger remarked. "As well as your little speech."

"Pam and Ray were supposed to be watching you," Cyril pointed out.

"We did," Pam said. "We **watched** her drink all that alcohol and eat the drugged up gummy bears. We **watched** her make a fool of herself. We **watched** her as she got into the car…"

"Not **literally** Pam!" Lana shouted.

"We are **not** taking the fall for Crazy-O Andretti over here," Ray pointed to Cheryl.

"Only God can reign in Cheryl when she's in one of her moods," Pam agreed. "Besides it's not like we purposely attacked some guys with a robot dog!"

"That bastard had it coming!" Lana snapped. "He slapped me on the ass! The other guy just happened to get in the way."

"That's what happened with me and all those booths," Cheryl spoke up. "I didn't intend to hit them! They just got in the way!"

"Cheryl don't say anything for the rest of the meeting," Cyril groaned. "In fact, aren't there some gummy bears you should be eating right now?"

"Way ahead of you," Cheryl took out a bag full of groovy bears and started downing them.

"It's after nine in the morning," Lana was stunned. "You're getting stoned on groovy bears **now?** "

"And drugged up Tic Tacks," Cheryl popped a few in her mouth. "It's okay! I had a big breakfast! It'll slow down the drugs."

Pam looked at her. "You had two mimosas, a piece of toast, some coffee kalua straight from the bottle and a handful of blueberries."

"Uh yeah," Cheryl said. "Blueberries are a super food. I'm on a health kick! Duh!" She then ate another groovy bear.

Ray looked at her. "You're gonna end up like Lupe Velez. You know that, right?"

"We're all gonna end up dead if Ms. Archer finds out we screwed up with that expo thing," Pam said. "Obviously Cyril and Krieger are gonna buy it first because they're the ones who stole money from Ms. Archer. But the rest of us will get it too."

"Hang on," Lana said. "Cyril you said the Figgis Agency was barely mentioned in the papers, right? What part was mentioned?"

"Not the robot dog part," Cyril said. "Just a line saying that security was provided by the Figgis Agency at the Tuntrado exhibition. Right before the papers go on describing Cheryl's car rampage in detail."

"Okay…" Lana paused. "That's not bad. It's not great. But not the **worst thing** that could have been written up about us. The important thing is the press isn't going to crucify us."

"No, but word of mouth will," Cyril groaned. "I admit it. I didn't exactly endear us to the insurance industry."

"We **all** screwed up big time yesterday," Lana admitted. "And it's only a matter of time before we run out of options."

"Meaning we may have to close down the agency," Cyril groaned. "Let's see, we've already failed at being spies, drug dealers, arms dealers… What happens when you can't even be a **detective**?"

"Let's see what our options are," Ray counted. "So far all I can think of is any job saying _Do you want fries with that_?"

"Not necessarily," Pam added. "You forgot the ones where you say _Attention shoppers_ , _there's a sale on cookies_."

"I could always open up another law office," Cyril groaned. "Assuming I'm still able to keep my law degree."

"If not," Krieger said. "It's off to Grenada."

"I could always be a pilot," Ray said.

"You'd be lucky if you got a job as a **flight attendant** ," Pam snorted. "At one of the crappiest airlines there is."

"Again," Krieger said. "Air Grenada."

"At least we have degrees that can get us work in Grenada!" Cyril snapped.

"Uh oh," Krieger blinked. "I'm in trouble."

"We're **all** in trouble if we don't figure out a way to keep this agency afloat," Lana warned.

"I would have thought Archer being in a coma, things would get a **little better** ," Cyril groaned. "They haven't."

"Quelle surprise," Ray rolled his eyes.

"We weren't exactly batting a thousand **before** the Deadly Velvet incident," Cyril said in a worried tone. "We seem to be getting worse."

"It's not that bad," Cheryl waved.

"Not for you Glenda Gottrocks," Pam said. "You're a freaking billionaire! You don't have to worry about where your next paycheck is coming from!"

"You're right!" Cheryl realized. "What do I care? I'm gonna go get glued up in the copy room! Ta!" She skipped out of the room.

"God, I hate her," Lana grumbled after Cheryl left the room.

"Me too," Cyril groaned. "But unless you really want to end up working for her…"

"Nooope!" Lana said.

"God no!" Pam groaned at the same time.

"Uh uh," Krieger added. "No way!"

"I'd sooner be a flight attendant," Ray added.

"We need to think of new ways to make money and **fast,** " Cyril said. "And possibly another career change."

"Hey! I have an idea!" Pam said. "Why don't we open up a fancy resort at some island somewhere?"

"Calling Faulty Towers, Line One!" Ray quipped.

"Let's just put that on the Maybe Pile for now Pam," Cyril sighed. "I could always open up a law office somewhere. But not here obviously. Or New York. Or New Jersey."

"What's wrong with New Jersey?" Pam asked.

"You got a couple of hours?" Lana quipped.

"It's nothing like **that,** " Cyril waved. "I just know some people there. Who don't really like me."

"As opposed to **everywhere else** in the world?" Ray quipped.

"You know…?" Cyril snapped.

"We could move to Miami," Ray suggested. "Start up a business there."

"First of all, we can't move yet," Lana sighed. "Archer is still in a coma!"

"Lana the man could be in a coma for **years!** " Cyril snapped. "What? We're just supposed to sit around and wait for him to literally come to his senses?"

"The man has a point," Krieger admitted. "I like Archer too but…Life goes on."

"Does it have to be **this life**?" Ray groaned. "What about being a mercenary? There's always work in that business."

"I'm **not** becoming a mercenary!" Lana snapped. "One I have a child to raise. It's too dangerous."

"Oh my God that is your excuse for **everything!** " Pam groaned.

"And two," Lana added. "Usually mercenaries end up working for criminals. And I don't want to be a criminal."

"Lana," Ray gave her a look. "There's a very valid argument that you and the rest of us are **already** criminals."

"Okay how about this idea?" Pam said. "We open a bordello…Let me finish."

"Things a prostitute says," Ray quipped.

"For men **and** women," Pam said. "We go to Nevada, get our license. Renovate a nice little place out in the desert…"

"NO!" Lana snapped.

"Now hang on," Krieger spoke up. "Let her finish. She might be onto something there."

"We're **not** becoming **prostitutes**!" Lana snapped.

"Again," Ray quipped. Lana glared at him.

"Let's keep thinking," Cyril sighed. "Think. Think. Think. Think. Think…"

"Do you have to **talk** while you're thinking?" Lana looked at him.

"Well since most of us don't **think** while we're _talking…_ " Cyril quipped.

"Fair enough," Krieger admitted. "You know? If it's money we really need I think I can make some."

"You can't **print money** Krieger," Lana sighed.

"Well technically yes, I can," Krieger said. "It's just illegal. But that's not what I meant. Now hear me out."

"He said before the judge passed sentence on him," Ray quipped.

"You know there is a way to create real diamonds from carbon," Krieger said. "In fact, you can create diamonds from human bodies."

"Oh, dear God no…" Cyril groaned.

"Krieger we are **not** robbing graveyards!" Pam snapped. "Even I won't do **that job**! And I have done some weird gross shit over the years. Including ironically shoveling shit from barns. And other places."

"We don't have to rob graveyards," Krieger said. "I'm sure there are some nice mobsters who have body disposal problems and for a small fee…"

"NO!" Everyone shouted.

"Out of the question Krieger!" Cyril groaned. " **Anybody else** have an idea? Any **other idea?** Please!"

"How about the vending machine business?" Pam asked. "That might be a way to get some extra cash?"

"What could we sell in vending machines?" Cyril asked.

"Sell?" Pam blinked. "Oh. I guess we could do that too."

"Pam…" Lana groaned.

"What?" Pam snapped. "Like I'm the only one who's ever broken into a tampon dispenser at a public restroom…That by the was wasn't even stocked and grabbed all the change that barely covered the cost of a cup of coffee and a bearclaw!"

Everyone looked at her. "You **are** the only one who's done that," Lana looked at her.

"Oh," Pam frowned. "I didn't know that."

"I suppose we could substitute condom machines instead of…" Krieger began.

"NO!" Lana and Cyril groaned.

"We could always be henchmen," Pam spoke up.

"What?" Lana asked.

"Henchmen for some guy who wants to take over the world," Pam said. "Or just steal a lot of cash. I'm sure there's a lot of turnover in that business."

"Those people could always use an extra mad scientist or two," Krieger spoke up.

"These are **our options**?" Ray shouted. "Seriously? **This** is what we're qualified for?"

"Look we'll think of something," Cyril sighed.

"And you've been doing a real bang up job so far," Lana grumbled.

"If you recall running a detective agency wasn't **my idea**!" Cyril snapped. "It was Archer's! I'm just the one who's making it **work!** As usual!"

"You're making it suck as usual," Lana scoffed.

"At least Cyril is **trying** to keep this agency afloat," Pam defended.

"Thank you, Pam," Cyril said.

"I mean they're **stupid ideas** ," Pam went on. "But at least they're **ideas!** I haven't heard anything coming from **your** big fat mouth except for nagging!"

"And complaining," Ray added.

"And telling everyone that you have a child as an excuse not to do fun stuff," Krieger added.

"I know right?" Pam asked.

"Why are you ganging up on **me**?" Lana snapped.

"Because we're sick and tired of you acting holier than the rest of us!" Cyril snapped.

"Get off your high horse and start mucking the shit it drops like the rest of us!" Pam snapped.

 _"Excuse me?"_ Lana shouted. "I'm **not** the one getting drunk out of their minds during the middle of the day. And the beginning of it!"

"ENOUGH!" Cyril shouted. "Look we're **all** equally to blame here! What we need to do is find a way out of this mess instead of pointing fingers!"

"Or in some cases," Krieger quipped. "Pulling fingers."

"Trying to figure out who is the most to blame here isn't going to solve **anything** for us!" Cyril told them. "Can we please try to think of a way to get clients before we have to resort to selling ourselves on the streets?"

"If I were you I'd get the money up front," Ray quipped.

"I was going to say that," Pam said.

"Me too," Lana added.

"Good morning Morons," Mallory walked into the office and put her purse down on a nearby chair.

"Mallory what are you doing here?" Lana asked. "It's the weekend. I thought you were going to visit Archer."

"I am. I just dropped in to talk about a couple of things," Mallory stood at the head of the table. "First of all, Lana why did you drop off my grandchild with Ron this morning?"

"Because I needed to save money and at this rate my babysitter will be able to afford a car before she can legally drive," Lana looked at her.

"Fair enough," Mallory shrugged. "But you could have asked me!"

Lana added. "You were out cold and I didn't want to disturb you."

"A little late for that," Mallory groaned. "I just **love** being woken up by a toddler poking at my face. And sitting on my stomach."

"Ooh, sorry," Lana winced.

"Not as sorry as Ron will be," Mallory grumbled. "He was encouraging her. But that's not important. Second item. I'm assuming this meeting has something to do with that ridiculous business expo Cyril insisted on going to. Especially since I learned on the morning news that there was an incident that shut it down."

"What kind of incident?" Cyril winced.

"Well the details were rather sketchy," Mallory admitted. "But I did find about thirty videos online of Carol driving a flaming car like it was competing at the demolition derby. Do I even want to **know** what happened?"

"Not really," Cyril admitted.

"Fair enough," Mallory sighed. "I also saw a video of a familiar looking robot dog chasing some men and then getting run over by Carol. Do I really want to know the details of **that one?"**

"Not particularly," Lana and Krieger said at the same time.

"I didn't know Carol could even drive," Mallory remarked.

"She can't," Ray sighed.

"Also," Mallory paused. "Pam was that you and Ms. Gillette stealing **gift bags** and **lobsters** in the background of one of those videos?"

"No comment," Ray said.

"But if you're in the mood for seafood," Pam spoke up. "Check the fridge."

"Well at least we have food for a couple of days," Krieger remarked.

"I also got a very disturbing phone message from our former insurance agency," Mallory said. "Cyril is it true you actually bullied some man and made him have a nervous breakdown?"

"No comment," Cyril groaned.

"I'm still not sure how that is **possible** ," Mallory asked clearly confused.

"Apparently there are people more pathetic than Cyril," Pam said.

"More pathetic than **Cyril?** " Mallory blinked. "In **this** hemisphere?"

"You know…?" Cyril gave her a look.

"I mean I assumed that there would be _some people_ more pathetic than **Cyril,** " Mallory went on. "In some underdeveloped nation where you had to walk six miles to get water or a whore. A leper in the Middle East whose arm had just dropped off. A blind man who has to work in a whorehouse and can't touch the girls…"

"You **know** …?" Cyril snapped.

"But in **this country**?" Mallory asked. "In this **state?** Are you sure he just didn't tell the man about his love life?"

"We thought that too!" Ray spoke up.

"I'm sitting **right here**!" Cyril shouted.

"I'm just going to chalk that up to some weird freak of nature," Mallory waved.

"So is Cyril," Pam quipped.

"This coming from the Queen of the Freaks?" Cyril snapped.

"Hurtful!" Pam said. "And unnecessary!"

"I thought the Queen of the Freaks was Gillette," Mallory remarked.

"Hurtful!" Ray snapped. "And unnecessary! What you have to get your daily dose of gay bashing in?"

"I'm trying to cut down on racial slurs," Mallory explained. "I have to make up the difference **somewhere**."

" **Not fair**!" Ray said. "Enough!"

"Speaking of **somewhere** ," Mallory ignored Ray. "Since you lot are **here** and instead at the expo may I assume that this agency is shall we say, _persona non-grata_?"

"Nah we're just banned for life," Pam waved.

"From this expo or any other ones?" Mallory asked.

"Yes," Pam said brightly.

Mallory sighed in despair. "Of course. Let's just move on to the next item on my list. It's actually the most important one of all. I was going over my accounts the other day and I found that I am missing quite a lot of money. From a few sources! Anyone want to explain how **this** happened?"

Then it hit Cyril. "Cheryl did it!"

"What?" Mallory turned on him.

"I needed eleven thousand dollars for the expo and Cheryl said she'd give me the money!" Cyril went on. "I didn't know she **stole it** from you until **after** I made the payment. She treated it as a joke and just laughed."

"Interesting," Mallory narrowed her eyes.

"She gave me some money too!" Krieger said quickly. "Then she said she stole it from you. If that helps any."

"It sounds like something Cheryl would do," Ray said cautiously.

"I'd believe that," Pam nodded.

"Yuuup," Lana agreed.

"How the hell can **Carol** embezzle _**anything**_?" Mallory asked. "Carol? The woman who can barely turn on a computer? How is **that** possible?"

"Your password is **Duchess,** " Cyril sighed. "For **everything.** For at least the **past decade**. Even Cheryl can't forget **that!** "

"I keep telling you to change it," Lana said.

"Do you expect me to believe that Carol…" Mallory began when a giggling Cheryl drunkenly staggered into the conference room. Cheryl then saw Mallory's purse and then began to dig through it.

"What are you **doing?** " Mallory glared at Cheryl. "Can I help you?"

"Uh yeah," Cheryl scoffed as she pulled out Mallory's wallet. "You can give me some money to burn. Just going to take some…"

"You want to take **my money** ," Mallory glared at her. "Out of **my wallet** …To buy things for **yourself**?"

"No, stupid!" Cheryl laughed drunkenly. "I told you! I'm going to **burn it**! HA! HA! HA!"

"GIVE ME MY MONEY YOU DRUNKEN LITTLE WHORE!" Mallory screamed as she lunged at Cheryl.

"HA HA HA!" Cheryl laughed as she ran away from Mallory.

"I'M GOING TO WRING YOUR NECK LIKE A CHICKEN!" Mallory screamed as she chased Cheryl out of the room.

"TEASE!" Cheryl laughed.

"Oh. My. God," Ray gasped in shock as they all stood up to watch.

"Wow," Cyril looked at the others. "That was a freebee."

"I take it back," Pam blinked. "Cyril, you are **not** the most pathetic person on the planet."

"Not with that dumb luck," Lana admitted.

"Was that so hard to say?" Cyril snapped.

"Cyril, I think some of Archer's dumb luck just transferred to you," Ray was stunned. "It's the only explanation for what happened."

"I swear to god I don't know what made me say it," Cyril admitted.

"IF YOU DON'T GIVE ME BACK MY MONEY I WILL MAKE YOU WISH YOU WERE NEVER BORN!" Mallory screamed.

"DOUBT IT!" Cheryl laughed.

"But I'm glad I did," Cyril gulped.

"Turns out Cyril you were wrong," Krieger remarked as he watched Mallory chase around Cheryl. "Figuring out who to blame solved a few problems for us. Especially me."

"I kind of almost feel bad for Cheryl taking the blame for what we did," Lana admitted. "Almost. But still…"

"AAAHHHHH!" Mallory pounced on Cheryl with the grace of a lioness tackling a gazelle.

" **You** want to tell her she's wrong?" Cyril asked Lana.

"URK! URK! URK!" Cheryl coughed as Mallory choked her.

"Nooope," Lana gulped.


End file.
